Libraries Are The Torch Of The World,

The Mere Suggestion Of Fame And Fortune Casts A Glamour All Its Own. It Is Rather Alarming How Quickly People Will Turn Someone Else's Fiction Into Fact In Order To Support Their Own Fictions Of Themselves.

There Is No Greater Power On This Earth Than Story.” Will Paced The Length Of The Room. “people Think Boundaries And Borders Build Nations. Nonsense—words Do. Beliefs, Declarations, Constitutions—words. Stories. Myths. Lies. Promises. History.” Will Grabbed The Sheaf Of Newspaper Clippings He Kept In A Stack On His Desk. “this, And These”—he Gestured To The Library’s Teeming Shelves—“they’re A Testament To The Country’s Rich Supernatural History.

We're Like Pretty Horses, And Just As On Horses, They Mean To Put Blinders On Us So We Can't Look Left Or Right But Only Straight Ahead Where They Would Lead.

We Create The Illusions We Need To Go On. And One Day, When They No Longer Dazzle Or Comfort, We Tear Them Down, Brick By Glittering Brick, Until We Are Left With Nothing But The Bright Light Of Honesty. The Light Is Liberating. Necessary. Terrifying. We Stand Naked And Emptied Before It. And When It Is Too Much For Our Eyes To Take, We Build A New Illusion To Shield Us From Its Relentless Truth.

You Have A Steady Fella?” Sam Asked After A Bit. “no Fella Can Hold Me For Long.” Sam Gave Her A Sideways Glance. “that A Challenge?” “no. A Statement Of Fact.